I walked down to a café that wasn’t too crowded and looked spotlessly clean. I sat alone at a table in a corner, consulted the Russian-language app on my phone, figured out how to order, butchered the request but still managed to get a cup of hot tea with honey stirred in for sweetness and a slice of cake, called muraveynik, which means “anthill.” It tasted like crumbled cookies covered in milk caramel, joined with sour cream, shaped and baked into its unappetizing namesake. But the muraveynik is delicious—sweet and dense—and the tea warmed me up. I decided having high blood sugar was a plus, so I toyed with having another cup of tea and sampling the honey cake, another Russian staple. I wondered if Grant would crave cakes such as these—surely they got a sweet now and then at the orphanage; where would I find genuine Russian recipes for them?—when the warning woman from the airport slid into the seat across from me.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t panic. I stared at her and she stared at me. Then she smiled.

“The anthill is not considered a fancy cake at all. Every family has their recipe. My mother puts chocolate chips in hers.” Her English was excellent, her accent light.

“If I’d taken your advice and gone home, I never would have gotten to try it,” I said. My voice shook and I swallowed some tea, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “So what do you have to say to me now? Why do you care what my husband and I do? Did you know we were run off the road yesterday?”

For a moment she frowned. Then she said: “How much have you spent on getting this baby?”

“A lot and it’s none of your business.”

“And your daughter was very sick. Also very expensive. You must be wealthy.”

“My husband has a good job.”

“Does he, now?”

I didn’t like where this was going. “What do you want?”

“I want you to pick another child at that orphanage. It’s not too late. There are so many other children there who need love.”

“Why? Why not Sasha?”

“If you pick another child, you decline Sasha, you will be amply rewarded. A quarter million dollars in an account for you, offshore. Tax free.”

I just stared at her. “Who the hell are you?”

“This offer is good for today. You can call and tell the orphanage that you did not bond with Sasha, that you’d like to try another child. There are so many. So. Many.”